It finally happened, I got my puppy that I am hoping to train as my service dog.

His name is Axel and he is currently 13 weeks old…

The “funny” thing is, I planned for him for almost two years. I researched, I reached out, I studied, I scheduled, I was so excited, and I was also slightly nervous.

Axel is precious, he is so cute, he is playful, he learns quickly, he is focused on me, he loves other people, he recovers quickly from fear…all wonderful things! Granted he is a puppy and at times makes me want to pull my hair out when he wants to eat everything and jump on all of the counters…but overall, he is great…

And yet, somehow, my depression and anxiety are through the roof.

I’ve had three weeks off of work and if I’m being really honest, I haven’t enjoyed it…not much at all…

That admission of my truth feels so shameful…I have an adorable and loving puppy for goodness sake! What is wrong with me?!? Everyone who meets him is smitten, so why aren’t I??

I feel like a horrible human being and a horrible mom to this little boy…

I’m doing everything I should be for him, but my heart is not in it…

I sure hope my heart gets with the program as time goes on because right now, what I feel is a whole lot of nothing (depression) and a whole lot of fear (anxiety), during a time that should be full of love and excitement…

I feel broken…maybe I’m not capable of love…maybe this is more proof that I should never have children. If I can’t love a puppy, could I love a child?

I’m so afraid of ruining Axel’s life. What if I fuck up? What if I’m not enough? What if I’m not worthy? What if I really am a horrible person like my father says I am?

What if I am just like my father?

Maybe I am no better than him…incapable of love…

I’m drowning in depression and anxiety while I feel like I should be full of love and hope…so love and hope is what I show the world while I fall apart behind closed doors…

After two brain surgeries, five spinal taps, a fractured spine, an infection in my brain, too many needle pricks and IV’s to count, fear was known. I knew pain so well I could practically call him my best friend.

People fear the unknown. Pain was no longer the unknown.

I know that pain will come and go and I know that pain won’t kill me. I know that pain is temporary and relative. I know that pain is more in the mind than of the body.

When in the hospital they show you a chart with smiley faces ranging from 1-10. Number one has a big smile and number ten is grimacing in pain.

Number 10 couldn’t do justice for the pain I experienced as a 16 year old.

But I survived, I lived through it. So what pain that is to come can I not handle?

I know I can handle pain. I know pain. Pain does not scare me.

In fact, I take much pride in my ability to conquer pain, to not fear pain.

I think feeling alone has to be one of the hardest feeling for me to handle…

I sit here, in the dark, alone.

So alone.

So alone that I can’t think of a single person I can reach out to to help ease the pain.

That is terrifying.

And what makes it even worse is that I don’t even know how I got here. How I got to a place of having nobody. Because I certainly used to have plenty.

My life has become a spiral of nothingness. I go to work, through which I find no joy. I go to school, through which I find no joy. And then I sleep. I sleep because I have nothing else to enjoy. I sleep in hope of easing the pain. I sleep because sleep is my only friend. I sleep because I have no other option.

And yet I’m exhausted. I’m tired of having no joy, no hope, no goal to strive toward, no purpose.

It’s an emptiness in my chest that resembles a black hole. So large, so dark, so void of anything that signifies life…

So where do I go from here?

Something has to change, but what? I’m stuck at my job, I go to school online, my options feel so limited.

So here I sit trying to think of a single person I can reach out to as my mind crawls towards the darkest corners of existence…

Having a sick mind in a recovered body feels even more horrible than having a sick mind in a sick body.

At least having a sick body made me feel like my pain was worth something. At least the pain wasn’t invisible. At least people could see. At least I didn’t feel crazy. At least I was skinny.

Now I live in a recovered body and I’m not dying but my mind is still very much stuck in the sickness, the pain, the torture, the fear, the shame.

Now I’m sick but no one can see. I’m sick but my pain is invisible. I’m sick and I don’t look it. I’m sick and feel crazy. I’m sick and the pain is worth nothing.

I miss my sick body. Some days are worse than others, but lately all the days seem to be horrible.

I want my bones to show again. I want my stomach to be concave again. I want my thighs to be as far apart as the east is from the west again. I want to be fragile again. I want to feel high again. I want people to stare again. I want people to be scared for me again.

I miss my sick body.

And yet, in order to get my sick body back I would have to lose so much. My job. My school. My puppy. My apartment. My friends. My family.

I don’t want to lose those things but sometimes (a lot of the time) I would still rather have my sick body than all of those other wonderful things.

It’s a moment I’ve been waiting for for quite some time. I have looked forward to severing this last form of connection but I’ve also dreaded it.

With it comes freedom and with it also comes pain.

The pain and fear that I may never connect with my father again pierces my heart.

I feel fragile. I feel broken. I feel the anxiety and the sadness creep up on me inconveniently throughout my days.

It’s a pain I can’t seem to articulate.

It’s a kind of pain that I just want to numb out from.

It’s an exhausting type of pain.

It drives itself deep into my being.

It makes everything ache.

And there is no band-aid or ice pack or medicine that will make it go away…

I miss him..I need a father..or a mother..either would be nice. I just need someone. Someone to tell me it’s going to be alright. Someone I can go to and feel safe to fall apart in front of for just a moment before I have to pull myself together and present strength to the world.